Hope
by TheUnfaithfulWanderer
Summary: (Page 517 of House of Hades in Percy's POV) I'm going to die. The thought was certain now. My hand felt lighter for some unknown reason. As I turned my head to see why, time slowed. I looked down and saw Riptide, my sword, inevitably falling out of my hand and towards the ground. Clang. (R&R)


**Percy's POV**

_I'm going to die._

A surge of panic so sudden and urgent coursed through my body like lightning. I looked cautiously to my right and saw Annabeth; she looked up at the god in front of her with a look that could only be compared to a cornered animal. The usual glint in her silver eyes vanished, which gave her a helpless look that I had never seen before cross her face.

You see, this thought alone was almost enough to overwhelm me. But that wasn't the problem. The problem was the ground that wasn't the ground, and the air that wasn't the air, and this unknown yet perfectly distinguishable figure in front of me.

Tartarus.

_I'm going to die._

The dirt and cuts that covered Annabeth's face probably mirrored those on mine. Her hair was a tangled mess tied behind her with a makeshift hair-tie made out of drakon skin.

Only another chilling thought.

The ground pulsed underneath my feet.

A heart.

I gagged and retched. Pulling myself together, I took a deep breath. My eyes watered as the sulfurous air filled my lungs. Oh, how much I longed for water.

Oh, how much I longed for hope.

I remember the war I fought with my friends against Kronos, the evil Titan of time. I remember the jar that Prometheus gave to me:

_Prometheus tapped the lid on Pandora's jar. "Only one spirit remained inside when Pandora opened it."  
>"Hope," I said.<em>

_ Prometheus looked pleased. "Very good, Percy. Elpis, the Spirit of Hope, would not abandon humanity. Hope does not leave without being given permission. She can only be released by a child of man._

_ The Titan slid the jar across the table._

"It is good to have form," Tartarus intoned. "With these hands, I can eviscerate you."

I looked at Annabeth once more. The hope in her eyes was draining like a gauge running on empty. Her eyes frantically dashed back and forth, sweat traced down her face like tears. She opened and closed her mouth like a fish, attempting to think of something to say to get us out of this mess. I always invest my hope in her. She's who gets us out of these kinds of disasters. She talks her way through without having to even stress her brain in the slightest; all the while I'm busting my butt with my sword, always devoting myself to the easy way out. I simply kill them. Annabeth is much more peaceful. Of course, she does often have to resort to killing the monsters, but who doesn't? She's just trying to live like any other sane person would strive to do.

But, as I saw her mouth close for the last time, I knew she was about to resort to her backup plan, and I drew my sword, ready to protect her at all costs. Then, I realized that she wasn't even planning on fighting; she didn't _have_ a plan.

_I'm going to die._

The thought was certain now.

My hand felt lighter for some unknown reason. As I turned my head to see why, time slowed. I looked down and saw Riptide, my sword, inevitably falling out of my hand and towards the ground.

_Clang._

I slowly turned my head to the right and saw Annabeth turn to match my gaze this time. Shock and horror were etched into her face. At that moment, I looked into her eyes and saw a reflection of myself; my own eyes were wide even though the bags under them should have weighed them down. Annabeth dropped her gaze to my hand once more, only to confirm her thoughts though; she knew what had happened, what it all meant.

I let Hope out of the jar.

I willingly gave up. I was conscious of my actions, Annabeth knew that. She knew that by doing this, I had no plans, no tricks up my sleeve. I wasn't Perseus Jackson, demigod hero that survived against the will of the gods; no, I was Percy. Just delinquent Percy who survived longer than he should have.

Tartarus hissed again-possibly laughing.

"Your fear smells wonderful," said the god. "I see the appeal of having a physical body with so many senses. Perhaps my beloved Gaea is right, wishing to wake from her slumber."

He stretched out his massive purple hand and looked like he might have plucked me up like a weed, but Bob interrupted.

I looked up like a frightened child, both fragile and broken. The only difference this time was now my eyes widened, not in fear, but in shock. Bob, Iaeptus; the Titan that I had left, that I had abandoned, was now coming to save me. He came to save me. He came to save Annabeth. I left him in Hades to work for eternity as a slave and he still came for us.

I studied his expression; his dirty face was painted with a fierce determined look.

He was going to sacrifice himself to let me and my girlfriend escape Tartarus with our lives.

I was going to help. I was going to do whatever I could to prolong his life, to honor his sacrifice.

_I'm not going to die._


End file.
